


adolescent hearts

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, F/F, Porn Battle, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-06
Updated: 2012-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-30 16:48:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/333890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there is teenage fumbling, and no one knows what they want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	adolescent hearts

**Author's Note:**

> for the prompts "tights" and "phone call" at the porn battle xiii
> 
> tw for references to alcohol.

Roxy smells like musty, empty rooms, alcohol, and nail polish remover, yet somehow it's pleasant and you inch a little bit closer to her on the couch without thinking.

She's sprawled across it, long pale limbs sticking out in every direction, and you're sitting on her legs, your elbows touching. You think one of her arms might be slung across the top of the couch, around your back. 

The first time you heard her voice, you were surprised at how low it was; it's a lovely voice, really. She's running a commentary on the romantic woes of the chumps on TV, but she's looking at you every other second, pink eyes scanning your profile as if there's something there for her to find.

She takes her time, but her arm fastens itself around your shoulders eventually, and the noise is washing over you, lulling you into a stupor, and you don’t fight it when she pulls you down. You end up with your head on her shoulder, which puts you pretty much on top of her, and from there it's only a few minutes before she scoots the both of you around a little so you’re sitting facing each other. The TV is long forgotten. 

Roxy is the sort of girl you only see on television, who drinks all day and writes code all night and phones you up when it’s dark because she's soooo lonely and your voice is so warm, jane, you sound like a cake, i wonder if you taste sweet, haha. There is a voice in your head that warns _you’re going to wake up one day and realized you imagined yourself a best friend_ , and that’s the part telling you that this is just one more thing you’ve dreamed up, but when she trails her fingers up your arm and around the back of your neck it's as corporeal as the couch you’re sitting on.

You’ll never know if you taste sweet or not because you’d never ask, but she tastes like condensed milk and antiseptic. It isn’t as unpleasant as it should be.

It's not the first time, but your stomach still jumps a little bit when she kisses you. No matter how much she tells you its just a girls thing, janey, stop taking erevything so seriously and just go with the floooow you don't think you know anybody who makes out with their best friend on a regular basis who doesn't think it means _something_.

But whatever you think it means seems a bit irrelevant when you let out a sigh against Roxy's mouth and her tongue brushes yours. She's bony against you and always a little too cold to the touch but her hands rove along your sides, slowly, and she's kissing you with as much attention as you think she's ever paid anything. 

Tentatively, you move your legs so you're straddling her hips as much as you can while you’re both sitting up, and she seems to take this as encouragement because she's pulling your shirt up, up, out of your skirt and over your head and onto the floor, taking your bra with it in one (slightly uncomfortable) move. Cold fingers touch your neck and run down, carefully, until one brushes your nipple. There is a particular ache settling in your stomach. You aren’t completely comfortable dwelling on it.

It never went this far or this fast before, and when you break the kiss for air you think for a second about asking her what she wants from you, but she refuses to meet your eyes, instead reaching under your skirt for the waistband of your tights, her fingers fumbling a little. Your tights peel down your legs slowly, revealing inches of skin. Any uncertainty as to where this is headed is gone. 

Roxy still has all her clothes on, and she looks as composed as she ever does apart from her lips, swollen and pink. You feel like you should be reciprocating, somehow, but you don't know what you're doing and your brain is a bit fuzzy because Roxy's mouth, which had been following the path of her fingers down from your neck, has closed over your nipple and her cold hand is resting on your bare thigh. 

It wasn't so hard to breathe before, but you’re surprised to find you’re gasping, soft and girlish. The sensation isn’t wholly good; she’s using too much teeth and if you had to guess you’d say she’s never done this before, either, but you sense she’s trying very hard. 

Somewhere along the way, your hands wound into her hair.

She lifts her head back up, breathing hard, and looks in your eyes for the first time since you started, and you have a million and one things you would like to say to her. _Roxy, your eyes are the colour of bubblegum and you look like a cheerleader but you live like someone who doesn’t have anything to lose, which doesn’t make sense because you have me, and I never know what to do with you because you shouldn’t be real, and when you phone me at night and cry and tell me you love me I sometimes think you might be telling the truth, and what am I supposed to do with that?_

You kiss her with more force than you mean to. 

She brings her hand up from your thigh, and brushes you lightly through your wet underwear. You’re so turned on you think you might cry.

Her hands are still trembling but she finds your clit through the cloth and strokes it, too roughly, but you don’t think it’s going to take much more for you to go over the edge. Your hands slide out of her hair to run over her body, patting her, absently, and you’re rolling your hips onto her hand without even realizing.

You’re so close, you think you might just tip over – 

– and you do, literally. Instead of sitting roughly upright you’re on your back – you forgot she didn’t have her hands on your waist anymore – and your head hurts and you think you might have hit it on the armrest, and Roxy’s laughing omg jane whats your problem and you don’t have anything to tell her.

The purses her lips a little, looking down at you with a distant expression, and finally takes your panties off.

It doesn’t take long after that for her to get you off, and you come with a hand over your mouth to stifle the sound.

After, she helps you clean off and put your clothes back on, and when you ask her if she wants you to return the favour, she just smiles a little wistfully and passes you back your glasses.

 

Roxy leaves for home not long after that.

You try not to imagine her sitting in her big empty house by herself with a bottle of vodka, but it’s hard.

 

She phones you at the same time of night she always does.

You don’t pick up.


End file.
